


Lighthouse

by wilyasha



Series: Firewall [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 07:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13519152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilyasha/pseuds/wilyasha
Summary: Keith will choose odd family dinners over cleaning out ancient warehouses any day.





	Lighthouse

**Author's Note:**

> For Karin who requested some fluff before my more usual heavy dose of angst.
> 
> This takes place a week after the last events of _Ad Astra_.

“I can’t believe you volunteered us to do this,” Ryou says, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over Shiro’s shoulder. 

“It’s not that bad,” Shiro says, shrugging.

“Um… it looks pretty bad to me,” Pidge comments. She lightly kicks a metal trunk, causing an eruption of thickly layered dust to plume into the air.

When Dorma had said that some of the warehouses on Gal needed to be cleared out and hosed down, Keith didn’t think _they_ would be partaking in these endless chores. This storeroom, in particular, is piled high with trunks of outdated equipment, unused weaponry, and a collection of written books that managed to get out of Daibazaal intact. One of the bright overhead lights squeak sharply before falling to the ground, sending Lance jumping into Allura’s outstretched arms with a squeal like some damsel in distress. 

“Don’t we have sentries or something,” Keith sighs, after Lance manages to detangle himself from Allura’s arms, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. 

“Couldn’t we rewire them to do this type of work?” Hunk asks. “I will personally program some sentries to do this work, if it gets us out of scrubbing these floors.”

“How did Matt get out of this?” Keith questions, raising an eyebrow at Pidge.

“Well,” Pidge says, scrubbing the back of her neck, “he said that he had some mission to go on with Olia to Praxis-9. I didn’t really question it.”

“Praxis-9 doesn’t exist, Pidge,” Shiro groans, slapping his metal palm over his forehead. “And anyways, Olia was assigned to help train people at the Balmeran refugee camp, so…”

“This is not what I wanted to be doing this weekend,” Lance whines, falling to his knees to sob and lament to the dark ceiling above. “We could be taking a nice spa day at the bath hall. C’mon, Shiro!”

Allura subtly runs a hand through Lance’s hair in comfort. “I agree. I don’t like this at all.”

“Seconded,” Hunk adds, already rummaging through the trunk Pidge had assaulted. “Who knows what type of Galra torture devices are in here.”

“I could show you,” Ryou says, smirking over at the yellow paladin.

A collective groan reverberates off the warehouse walls.

“Why is he here again?”

\--

It takes a full quintant to get through half of the storeroom. By that time, Keith’s hands are sore and not even his callouses and fingerless gloves could protect his hands. Keith hides himself in his room on the Castle of Lions, rubbing a healing salve into his palms and the thin skin between his fingers. He trims his sharp nails, buffs them smooth, and hopes Lance doesn’t get pissed when he realizes that Keith took the paladin’s deluxe manicure kit.

The door to the bathroom opens, a haze of steam and hot air emanating through the slight crack. Shiro enters the room wearing a clean pair of boxer briefs with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. 

“One more day and I promise no more power washing floors,” Shiro says, mildly.

Keith rolls his eyes, putting the pot of healing salve on the shelf beside the bed. 

“You could have just said told Dorma _no_ ,” Keith pauses, “or I could say it.”

“Too abrasive,” Shiro teases, drying the wet tuft of hair on his head with the towel. He leans forward to plant a kiss on Keith’s forehead. “Better if I handle it.”

Keith chuffs, shifting over on the bed to leave space for Shiro to climb in. He watches the sinewy muscles of Shiro’s back stretch as the older man throws the towel across the room, the soft fabric catching on the back of a chair. 

“And you’re still okay with me moving in here while you’re on Gal, right?” Shiro asks, sliding into the bed and pulling Keith close. 

The Galra hybrid nods, tucking himself against Shiro’s warmth, the blanket pulled up to their chests.

“Because I can easily kick Ryou out of my room and lock him in a sleep pod every night,” Shiro reiterates for the hundredth time.

“It’s fine, Takashi,” Keith groans. “He’s more of an asset anyways. Might as well treat him like he’s sentient.” It’s a barbed declaration, poking at the fact that Ryou is probably more Galra on the inside than he is a human clone programmed for violence and espionage. 

Keith curls in closer, pressing a hand against the planes of Shiro’s chest, rubbing at the taut skin still damp from the shower. It’s not fair to treat Ryou like he’s some rabid monster that lacks emotion; Keith knows that it isn’t fair. Ryou didn’t ask to be a clone, one of Haggar’s experimental attack dogs. But Keith can’t help but release a bit of the malice that trickles into his own emotions. He’s still angry and spiteful, still aggravated at the fact that he was toyed with. That Ryou became Takashi so easily, and Keith hadn’t doubted the impostor.

Keith swallows around his anger, attempting to placate himself with his next words.

“Anyways, I like the idea of you staying in my room while I’m gone.”

Shiro grins. “You’re not gone. You’ll just be… out of the castle for a bit. And it isn’t like we won’t talk. I’m pretty sure Hunk calls Shay every single day. I’ll get my time to use the Castleship’s private communicator system. We’ll get to video chat on the big screen.”

Keith stills his hand. Although he’s tired of being separated from Shiro, he knows this is something he needs to do. His silence must draw Shiro’s attention because his boyfriend’s metal hand curls around him tighter, the thumb of the Galra appendage softly stroking over his lavender cheek.

“You know I support your decision to formally train with the Blades, right?” 

He nods, scratching idly at Shiro’s shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you, Keith.”

He falls asleep to the sound of Shiro’s heartbeat. 

\--

Two quintants later, his parents invite him and Shiro over to eat dinner at their place. Everyone has been cleaning up in the city, emptying buildings and domiciles that were left vacant by the Imperials after the siege. Housing had been assigned to Blades and rebels, and even the Imperials that sought out sanctuary away from Zarkon’s tight grip had successfully integrated into the coalition. 

It’s oddly domestic when Keith walks into his parents’ small domicile near the newly renovated marketplace. Seeing Kolivan and his father cooking and his mother rearranging furniture with the help of Ulaz. Shiro asking if they need help with anything. It’s just strange.

When there’s a knock on the door, Keith answers it only to see Allura’s smiling face and Lance carrying a bowl of freshly baked garlic knots courtesy of Hunk who is: “Sad he couldn’t make it, but he has dinner with Shay’s family tonight.” Keith is suspicious when Coran arrives fifteen doboshes late to dinner because he had to physically drag Matt and Pidge out of the laboratory on the Castleship. 

“I told them there’s time to reconfigure their flytzal mac protocols—”

“That’s not even a thing, Coran,” Pidge groans.

They’re halfway through their bizarre Sunday dinner only for Antok to waltz in with Hazar and Dorma hot on his heels. They bring gifts of a shimmering silver-blue liquid. 

“It’s like those alcoholic tonics you’re always talking about,” Allura lightly elbows Lance’s ribs, as she passes mismatching cups around the room. 

“Cocktails,” Lance corrects, rubbing at his side. “They’re called cocktails, Allura.”

“Definitely space vodka,” Matt says around a sip, his other hand busy pulling Pidge’s glass away from her. 

“Hey! I’m old enough! I can totally drink!”

Keith does not miss the drunken, lazy smile that travels across Kolivan’s face after Hazar spikes his leader’s drink. 

It’s four vargas before the sunrise. People are either passed out or playing video games that Lance and Matt hastily plugged in after going on a stumbling, drunken adventure back to the Castle of Lions. Keith opens the door when he hears several hasty knocks. Hunk and Shay stand there with more garlic knots and more space vodka. 

“Surprise, buddy!”

Keith begs Shiro to pinch him. Just to make sure he’s not dreaming about Lance beating Antok and Hazar at Super Smash Bros. Shiro, smiling and laughing, presses a wet kiss to his chapped lips. Even if it’s strange, even if it took twenty years for him to feel comfortable in his own skin, Keith wouldn’t trade this life for all the GAC in the universe.


End file.
